


Murder while I smile

by whosays_penultimate



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2014 Cup of China, AU in which Yuzu is a serial killer, Character Deaths, Crossdressing, Don't Like Don't Read, M/M, Murder, Pooh as actual weapon :D, Prison, Sexual Content, Suicidal Ideation, Yuzu-Centric, attempted noncon, but he's also a figure skater, dark humour, dark!Yuzu, irreverent, no beta we die by Pooh, nothing graphic though, people are crazy in this fic, these would be the triggers i think, wc 2019 doesnt happen in this AU (silver lining lel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whosays_penultimate/pseuds/whosays_penultimate
Summary: The ice was cold and unforgiving, and it only suffered the brave. There was nothing and no one he could trust, except for two: his Mother and his Winnie the Pooh: his most favourite person in the world and his most treasured possession.One took care of him in all possible ways, loved him unconditionally and was the only person who knew his real self.As for the other.... well there was something that nobody knew about Yuzuru Hanyu’s everpresent tissue box: his Pooh had teeth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mother_North](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/gifts).



> MN, thank you for all your stories which have enriched this fandom 1000x, and thank you for this wonderful idea! I hope you like it even a bit :)
> 
>  
> 
> PLEASE READ!! This is a FICTIONAL story which is only meant to amuse and entertain and it is NOT meant as disrespectful in any way to ANY of the real people mentioned here. Yuzuru is supposed to be a serial killer in this story, so if you can’t take that as the joke it obviously is, please do me the super favour of skipping it. Thank you.  
> If you’re cool with some dark!Yuzu, please go on ahead ~

** Murder while I smile **

 

_“He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.”_

_Shakespeare, Julius Caesar_

 

_*_

“I will do anything to win the Olympic gold medal.”

It is late afternoon in Moscow and in the ice rink the kids are tired, most of them drinking water rinkside or sluggishly skating around. Only one of them stands up straight, a teenager thin like a twig that might be carried away by a stronger gust of wind, but with a fierce look in his dark brown eyes. He stands out among all the rest with his Asian features, black mop of hair and all-black tightfitting training gear, among the mostly blonde, blue-eyed local crowd. The other kids look at him askance, but he doesn’t mind it. He repeats those words, in his mangled English, to the older man, who acts as both coach and choreographer for the kids, even though he hardly seems up to the task, his gaze distracted, probably thinking about the bottle of vodka stashed away in his locker room.

So the Japanese boy leans in close and stresses a single word, in a low, determined voice:

_Anything._

“Really now?” the older man finally answers, half startled, half pleased. He sucks on his teeth, thoughtfully, looking the Japanese boy up and down pointedly, completely missing the dangerous look in his eyes. “Interesting. Come back later, after everyone leaves, and we can, you know - _talk._ I do have some _connections_ and I can help. _”_

The Japanese boy curls up his lips in a barely there smile, his eyes glinting.

“Oh, I _will_. Come back later.”

The Japanese boy is Yuzuru Hanyu, future Olympic gold medalist, but the sleazy coach won’t live to see him achieve his dream, because he would die that night, by Yuzuru’s hand, for the unforgivable crime of not taking him seriously.

 

 “We have to get out of town”, Yuzuru told his mother that night. “Out of the country, preferably.”

“Oh, Yuzuru. Again?” she asked, a little put out. “I was just beginning to arrange the flat. And you love Russia so much, don’t you.”

“I’m sorry, mother. It couldn’t be helped. Maybe I will be back again some day.”

“Oh well”, she sighed, resigned. “I suppose it’s Canada next?”

“Yes, Canada. Quad Sal.”

“You have to promise me you will be more careful there, Yuzuru.”

“I am always careful. You don’t need to worry about me, mom.”

“Oh, I will always worry about you, my boy. I love you.”

“I love you too and I promise to always make you happy and proud”, he said, and kissed his mother on the cheek with a genuine smile.

Yuzuru meant what he had said. Everything else was white noise, everyone was expendable, going out was overrated, people were boring, and occasionally rude, and skating was the only thing worth investing in. The ice was cold and unforgiving, and it only suffered the brave. There was nothing and no one he could trust, except for two: his Mother and his Winnie the Pooh: his most favourite person in the world and his most treasured possession. Both had been with him ever since he remembered and he couldn’t imagine being without either of them. One of them took care of him in all possible ways, loved him unconditionally and was the only person who knew his real self. As for the other.... well the other was his faithful companion and when needed, his protector.

Because there’s something that nobody knew about Yuzuru Hanyu’s everpresent tissue box: his Pooh had teeth.

 

Yuzuru’s new coach in Canada wasn’t how Yuzuru expected. He was very polite, ruddy-faced and balding, round and kind like his Winnie. Everyone, from coaches to staff were terribly kind to him and endeared by his cuteness and poor grasp of English. Yuzuru decided to take full advantage of that by being extra cute and clueless, so he could get away with as much as possible. He was convinced that he knew himself and his own body best of all, since he carefully monitored every physical and psychological parameter that would hinder him or help him to win, trying to minimize the former and increase the latter. His coaches couldn’t possibly know all these things about him, so sometimes Yuzuru was ignoring his coach’s advice in favour of doing his own thing, when he felt the circumstance warranted it. However, whenever Brian or Tracy would do group practice, or ask that a certain element was trained, Yuzuru would go out of the way to do it perfectly, his competitive spirit fired up, soaking in the appreciative words and glances all around. He even started to take delight in stroking – there was something very satisfying about testing the limits of his edges, and exceeding the others’ expectations. And Brian always smiled kindly at him, no matter if he listened to him or not, and Yuzuru liked that, too.

After a few months, Brian took Yuzuru aside and told him that as his new coach, he would like to know Yuzuru’s plans for the future, more specifically, for the season.

Yuzuru nodded and said simply:

“I want to win – all competitions. Gold”, he added, just in case he hadn’t been specific enough.

Brian Orser was startled into laughter.

“Okay, okay yes, I can see how this can be an aim for you – if it’s also your plan, that’s fine.... How about your long-term plans then?”

Yuzuru took a deep breath, and repeated his mantra:

“I will do anything to win the Olympic gold medal.”

_Please don’t be like the other. Please take me seriously. I like it here and I don’t want to have to kill you when you’ve been teaching me so many useful things._

But there was a sparkle of fear he saw in Brian Orser’s eyes, not a sparkle of opportunity. He looked like he dreaded Yuzuru’s combative nature, as much as he found it exciting, and he definitely wasn’t fooled by the outward appearance of a skinny 17-year old that this fierce spirit chose to manifest itself as.

“Alright”, came Brian’s answer. “It’s good to aim high. We can work with that.”

Yuzuru nodded, deciding he needed to soften his gaze and put on his best sweet smile, now that he got what he wanted, lest his coach became truly suspicious.

 

His training mate and much awaited rival, Javier Fernandez, wasn’t how Yuzuru expected, either. His quad sal was much less consistent in practice and his eyes were much softer. He smiled wide and careless at Yuzuru, speaking in a broken English that Yuzuru still somehow managed to understand better than Brian’s textbook one. Javier always took care that Yuzuru felt included, comfortable, happy, with an uncanny sixth sense when Yuzuru was tired, angry, out of sorts. Yuzuru had never met anyone else more attuned to his emotions, apart from his own mother.

 

At first, Yuzuru was convinced that Javier treated him with such friendly care because he didn’t think him an important enough rival, and his initial reaction was to feel mortally offended. But it soon became apparent that Yuzuru was enough of a serious threat to Javier to beat him every single time they competed. And yet Javier remained soft and friendly with him – to Yuzuru’s bewilderment, who still yearned from time to time for the imagined death glares from across the rink and an epic hate story with his fated rival.

 

 _Everything is in my calculations_ – Yuzuru repeated to himself.

 _And what doesn’t fit my calculations, is_ **_taken out_.**

 

Javier hugged him with lingering touches, rubbing gently at his back, warming his cold body and threatening to melt a tiny patch of Yuzuru’s icy cool heart that would afterwards carry a torch for the Spaniard.

.... _One must allow for a relative 10% of randomness that stems from the universe being fundamentally irrational, even in the most exigent of calculations_ , Yuzuru was forced to concede.

He wrote in his notebook, lest he ever forgot:

“Javier Fernandez is too kind for competition. He is not to be hurt.”

 

 

The much awaited moment of the Sochi 2014 Olympics finally came. Yuzuru believed he was ready – he’d been ready for years: to take center stage and triumph.

But things weren’t going according to plan.

His idol and the man he most desperately wanted to beat, to match himself against and come out victorious, was forced to retire because of his poor physical condition. The news unsettled Yuzuru enough to make him wobble in the free, after a record-breaking short program. After everyone else did worse, he did win, but it wasn’t how he wanted it. The dreams he had, all circling around this moment, were made of grander stuff.  

A lesser version of Yuzuru Hanyu might have still won here, and that thought annoyed him. Were all his work and efforts then – wasted? No, of course not. _Efforts may lie but they will never be in vain_ , had long ago been written and underlined twice in his notebook.

Then why the disappointment? Was it better to have a dramatic loss than a mediocre win, catapulted by the others’ mistakes? No, of course not, but also maybe.... Sometimes he wondered about that.

His mother knew exactly what to say, as always.

“I’m proud of you”, she told Yuzuru, running her fingers through her son’s hair in a soothing rhythm. “Don’t listen to what people say. You’ve shown them all how great you are. The gold is yours, just like you always wanted.”

“I will work hard to be even better”, Yuzuru vowed, and she kissed his forehead.

“That’s my boy.”

 

Javier, who had finished 4th, just off the podium, congratulated Yuzuru with genuine warmth. However, he couldn’t help rough-housing his younger rinkmate a bit during the following days, unconsciously trying to re-establish a little of his lost dominance. Yuzuru shook him off half playfully, half annoyed, like a disgruntled kitten harassed by an older one. Yuzuru took Javier’s frustration in stride, since he was himself seriously annoyed by Javier’s failure to make the podium. He’d wanted Javier to share his glory, like a trusted and much beloved sidekick, and he didn’t like the idea that his team mate had failed to rise to the occasion.

At the banquet, Yuzuru stumbled upon Javier in the bathroom washing his face a little manically. Yuzuru noticed Javier’s red-rimmed puffy eyes, and the way he was sniffling, and trying to control his erratic breathing.

“Javi....you crying?” Yuzuru asked tentatively. “What happening?”

“They asked me again about that stupid article”, Javier burst out. “Puta madre.”

“An article?” Yuzuru repeated, clueless.

Javier threw him a bewildered look, like Yuzuru was the only person on the planet not knowing about _the article_ by now, but then wasted no time in telling him the entire story – gesticulating wildly, getting angry, then simmering down again, with a resigned shrug of his shoulders, as if to say ‘What can you do?’

 _Oh._ Yuzuru had been so self absorbed in the months leading up to the Olympics that he had no idea of the drama unfolding itself adjacent to him.

But Javier was sad – enough to hide in the bathroom to cry instead of celebrating, and was probably also distracted enough to make those mistakes on the big Olympic stage, mistakes that he rarely made in practice nowadays. So missing the podium wasn’t Javier’s fault after all – there was a man out there responsible for it, and indirectly responsible for casting a shade on Yuzuru’s big day.

There was nothing for it - he’d try to fix it now, the only way he knew how.

Yuzuru refused subsequent offers of celebration that night in favour of tracking down that one journalist who ruined Javier emotionally before the Great Event and killed his chances of standing next to Yuzuru on the podium.

“The....tissue box....”, were the journalist’s last words, “god, that would make a great story...”

“But you won’t be here to write it”, Yuzuru answered, a manic glint in his eyes, as he finished the job.

 

The universe always evens things out. With most people it’s little things – you have to cancel your vacation plans - you get a minor raise, you have a bad break-up, you meet someone new and exciting. With Yuzuru Hanyu, it’s conquering the world and then fighting for breath on the ice, shocked and bleeding, after an unexpected collision. It’s acknowleding that law of the universe and accepting it, knowing it’s the one thing him and his trusted Pooh can’t win against. It’s deciding to be at his strongest when every fiber in his body is screaming at him that he is weak and he should curl up in his mother’s arms and cry.

 _I am a warrior wounded in battle_ , Yuzuru reasoned, angrily wiping his tears. _I took a blow, but I’m still alive, so I will keep fighting – there’s nothing else for me. I am not a weakling. Never that. Whatever else I may be, I’m not weak._

“Yuzuru!” his mother begged him, “please - don’t skate!”

She meant don’t skate in that moment, not injured, and possibly concussed. But perhaps she also meant – stop, you have achieved enough, please rest and move on. Yuzuru smiled at her beatifically because he knew she’d never say those words out loud, even if they both guessed she was thinking them. Yuzuru knew that she wanted to hold him and shelter him from harm and fame, equally – from the bad press and dangerous accidents, as well as from the excited media and adoring fans – with a mother’s possessive love. The unspoken words hung in the air between them, as everyone held their breath and waited for Yuzuru’s decision.

“You have to trust me, mother”, Yuzuru said eventually. “I can do it. I will do it. I have to make the Grand Prix finals and if I retire here, it’s over for me.”

“You know best”, she finally relented.

She stepped forward, enveloping him into a warm long hug, ignoring everyone’s eyes on them, then retreated.

Yuzuru took a deep breath, thankful that air was going into his lungs now, strengthened and determined, he prepared for battle.

His head hurt terribly and he still had bouts of dizziness, but somehow he got through the long program, and as he stood in the kiss and cry with Brian, relieved that it was over for now, he was rewarded with unexpectedly high scores. It had been the right decision then, not to withdraw. His fighting spirit had been rewarded.

“Oh my god, protect him at all costs!” His fans shrieked.

“I am impressed by his strength of character!”

“I wasn’t a fan before but I am now!”

In light of this tremendous reaction, Yuzuru ignored the daily torment of aches and pains, as well as those acting as alarm signals heralding new physical issues, and trudged forward, on the wings of the moment. He felt it was the time to go forward, even if he failed – he couldn’t and wouldn’t rest, although his battered body kept screaming at him to do just that.

He lost NHK, won the Grand Prix final, unexpectedly and marvelously, in Javier’s home country, where people cheered for him like he was one of their own. Javier hugged him gingerly but lingeringly, like a precious thing that mustn’t be squeezed too tightly, but carefully cherished. Yuzuru smiled at him blindingly, and Javier, although having to settle for silver, smiled back just as brightly. It was beautiful. Not what Yuzuru expected, but so beautiful and right.

 _Maybe a certain degree of randomness in the world is a fortuitous thing_ , Yuzuru wrote in his notebook that night, along with the date, and fell asleep thinking of the sights and sounds of Barcelona, and Javier’s smile. After all, one can’t realistically account for _every_ existing variable.

 

As he struggled that post-Olympic season, he had more than his share of backlash from the media, who seemed to forget that he was the Olympic gold medalist and wrote him off in favour of his rivals. Yuzuru clenched his teeth and, having decided that such idle talk wasn’t worthy of Pooh’s _attention_ , went on to pursue perfection, over and over again, with single-minded focus. Nothing else mattered. Except history.

His fame grew among his peers and casual figure skating fans, transcending the sport, his talent and perseverance commanding admiration and respect. And maybe an uneasy sort of fear that would creep on unexpectedly, as people found themselves the focus of those dark eyes, fiercely lit as if from within. One of his rivals had the apt words for describing that:

“Yuzuru kills even before getting on the ice – during warm-up.”

“We try not to look him in the eye, we’re too afraid.”

“Yabai!!” women of all ages shrieked ecstatically, clutching their respective Pooh bears in enthusiastic support.

They were right – all of them.

Except there was one man who softened the steel of Yuzuru’s gaze with almost ridiculous ease. At least Yuzuru thought it was ridiculous, because he certainly never meant to turn to mush in the presence of his rival. It wasn’t even the same as playing fake cute for other people and the media. This was genuine, the way his eyes softened and lit up with joy, crinkling at the corners in that way he personally found childish and ungainly – far from his beautiful well-rehearsed smiles. As unguarded and ridiculous as his ugly honking laughter, that Javier never failed to wrench out of Yuzuru with his silly jokes. In fact, examining the data recorded by his heart rate monitor every evening, Yuzuru was convinced that the instances when his heart rate had sped up unaccountably were due to Javier being around, or worse – touching him, or far worse – having a bad mood that no one could fix. Yuzuru liked to think of himself as a pretty stable person, despite – well, everything, really, but Javier could go into a brown study unexpectedly, and then no amount of people trying to cheer him up, or happy events, or even Yuzuru being extra cute, could pull him out of it. And when Javier was feeling low, it was as if the entire rink was out of sorts. Javier’s sadness permeated the very air around him and no one could ignore it. Yuzuru would therefore try to make up for it by being extra loud and obnoxious, and Javier would smile at him like one would at a naughty attention-seeking child, sadly but kindly. Then the next day, Javier would brighten up as if yesterday had only been a bad dream, and then everything was alright again. Yuzuru never asked Javier about his momentary lapses into depression, because he didn’t think it was polite to do so. He suspected it was because Javier was working very hard, but he had no gold medal at Olympics or Worlds to show for all his hard work. Somehow, his efforts, although obvious to everyone around him, had failed so far to yield expected results.

But all that changed in 2015.

 

After all the health complications that plagued Yuzuru’s post-Olympic season, Yuzuru told himself he did not expect much from the worlds championship. Still, losing the title had _hurt._ It had been his, and he had lost it, and even though the person he had lost to was Javier, it was as if someone reached inside him with a knife and pried it out of him. But the person who did that was Javier, Javi, with his stupid blinding smile and his stupid doe eyes and stupid curls, and his stupid bouts of depression when no one could convince him that he was good enough. Yuzuru always felt things very strongly and the mixed feelings now were a bit on the side of too much. That must have been the reason why he couldn’t for the life of him control his tears, which fell abundantly, against his will or permission, in the worst possible moment, when all cameras were on him, no doubt expecting him to be happy for his rival. There was no way to explain the burden of _everything_ that had made Yuzuru so emotional in that moment – the bone-cutting pain of loss and the sincere joy of Javier finally getting his win, let alone in English. But, like always, Javier only needed the barest words to understand everything about Yuzuru, better than anyone else. And then Javier was all over him – around him, touching him, holding him, soft and gentle and grounding, smiling at him like he couldn’t believe it, like Yuzuru was even more precious that the medal he had finally won. Yuzuru had never before felt so much love radiating from a person that wasn’t his own mother, had never felt so warmly treasured. The bond they shared, already strong, solidified further that night into something unique and unbreakable.

After Worlds 2015, Yuzuru – tears still drying on his cheeks, took out his little notebook and flipped a few pages until he reached his previous note on Javier – underneath ‘Javier Fernandez is not to be hurt’ that his 17 year old self had wrote, he now added: “Javier is to be protected.”

 

And then there was that night, after an ice show, when the two of them stayed up late and talked – Yuzuru told Javier about the earthquake and Javier told Yuzuru about leaving his home and going into the unknown, and about his first former coach, things that made Yuzuru’s blood boil. Yuzuru remembered what he had written in his notebook, nodded and waited for his chance.

 

At the first opportunity, Yuzuru went after Morozov. He dressed up in a beautiful and delicate blue flowing dress, with spring flowers, a scarf to discreetly cover his pronounced Adam’s apple and a little make-up, skillfully applied to make him look like a pretty yet childlike doll, shining with the pure beauty of innocence. The last touch was to style his short hair to frame his face in gentle waves. Then he smiled at his reflection, picked up Pooh and stuck him in one of his mother’s old bags, and he was off.

“I am sorry to bother you”, Yuzuru said, softly, when Morozov opened the door, “You don’t know me, but I heard so much about you, so I take courage and decide to come and see you.”

Not at all surprised, the coach smiled and stepped back, motioning for him to come in.

“So how old are you, enchanting creature?” Morozov asked, as they both settled on the couch.

“I’m 18”, Yuzuru whispered with a giggle, covering his mouth prettily.

“Really? You look younger, but that’s perfect. No annoying parents to tell you what to do anymore, eh?”

“Oh no. My mother trusts me fully to take care of myself.”

“That is perfect, then. So what can I do for you?”

“I am shy”, the ‘enchanting creature’ whispered again, with another giggle. “I not speak English good. I want you teach skate beautiful. You are very good coach. You teach. I want win many medals in skating.”

“Ah yes, well you know, I had several Japanese students, actually. There was one, beautiful just like you, who won many medals.”

“I know. Miki Ando.”

“Maybe you know her then?”

“I know. She, and boyfriend too.”

“Oh, right”, Morozov’s gaze darkened. “ _Javier.”_

“Javier not good student, then?” Yuzuru prodded.

“Oh, he was great. I could see he was great, but it just wouldn’t come out, you know? No matter what I did....and believe me when I say that I was very creative with him”, Morozov laughed loudly and Yuzuru’s eyes narrowed. “One time, I told him ‘You have to learn not to put your hand forward when you fall, and straighten up by yourself.’ So I tied his hands together behind his back and made him do a complicated step sequence, because he always stumbled during those, the distracted fool. He fell so many times, he would trip and fall straight on his face, bam! How I laughed... And he still didn’t learn his lesson....”

Yuzuru was clenching his hand on his bag, where Pooh was securely hidden.

“What else?” he spoke in a fierce whisper. “What is the worst you did to him?”

Morozov turned to look at him, suddenly suspicious.

“Why do you wanna know? You know, I’d never do these things to _you._ I don’t treat ladies that way, I’m a gentleman.”

“But I want to know”, Yuzuru pouted, his mouth twisting cutely. “What else did you do to that _distracted fool_?”

“Haha well, another time I bought him a coffee, you know Javi loves his coffees, except I put some sleeping powder in it. He struggled to keep awake so much, it was hilarious. _Oh mierda, and I just drank a coffee_ , he was complaining. I could barely keep from laughing. So I said ‘You’re such a lazy bum, Javi, you probably spent last night doing god knows what, that’s why you’re tired today.’ But the absolute best one....I always told him to take care of his skates properly and wipe them down after he used them, but I know he was so careless that he never did that. So one day I decided to show him the consequences of not listening to me. I took a penknife and sliced right through one of his skates – I did it so it wasn’t noticeable, but it was barely held together. When Javi stepped on the ice with those skates and starting warming up, the skate fell apart immediately – and he fell on his butt and just sat there, with a bewildered look on his face. Everyone started laughing, and I said, _You see, Javi, that’s what happens if you don’t take care of your skates! —_ Hahaha, oh that was good-“ Morozov was laughing heartily, but when he glanced back at Yuzuru, his laughter died on his lips. “What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously. “You look-“

Yuzuru looked like fire and ice, his eyes blazing with unconcealed emotion, a storm on the verge of absolute destruction, and not even his skillfull make-up and innocent appearance could conceal it. It was usually the last thing his victims saw, and not even the self-absorbed Morozov could miss that something bad was about to happen.

“What is it about that silly clown that inspires such loyalty in you Japanese bitches?” were Morozov’s last disgruntled words before Pooh took care of him.

As Morozov collapsed to the floor in his final death throes, Yuzuru leaned over to give him an answer:

“He’s everything you’re _not”,_ he stated pointedly, no longer bothering to disguise his voice.

Afterwards, he left the apartment with a spring in his step.

 

It wasn’t long before the news reached everyone, and TCC as well.

“Morozov is dead!! Killed, in his own apartment!”

“...Oh.”

 _Oh._  That was the extent of Javier’s reaction. Javier Fernandez, the most kind man Yuzuru had ever encountered, who held raffles for stray kittens and had a nice word for everyone, only had this to say upon the passing of his former coach. That’s how Yuzuru knew killing Morozov had been the right thing to do.

 

Later that season, Javier added another quad to his program.

The sheer betrayal of that made Yuzuru stagger.

For the first time, Yuzuru Hanyu looked at his beloved Javier and thought that maybe his continued existence wasn’t such a good idea after all. But he hesitated – and that, he reflected in a moment of clarity, had been the start of his undoing.

 

And then Yuzuru got injured, so injured that he was superstitiously afraid and decided to hide it from everyone, and ride the wave recklessly, into the worlds championship, and afterwards, what would be, would be. In hindsight, that was the worst decision he had ever made. Javier overtook him easily with a brilliant performance in the long program, to win the worlds championship for the second year in a row. This time, Yuzuru didn’t cry. He was numb. He felt like someone whose time is almost up, so he could afford to be happy for Javi, and fully enjoy his last days in the spotlight. After all, if this injury proved to be his undoing, this might be the last precious time he’d take the ice. He also realized the strength of his feelings for Javier - and that was nothing short of  _dangerous._ Javier made him soft, and unaccountably silly. Javier turned Yuzuru from a panther with a killer instinct into a kitten who sought out his favourite human for attention and affection. This was unacceptable.

 

Shoma fidgeted in the seat next to him on the bus, on the way back to their hotel after the gala. Absorbed by his own thoughts, Yuzuru paid him no attention at first, until the younger plucked up his courage and spoke up:

“Listen, Y- Yuzu-k-kun, I –“

“What is it? Do you need the bathroom?”

“What? No.”

“Stop moving around so much then, you’re making me anxious.”

“...Um, right. I just want to say.... uhhhh....that I know about Pooh”, he whispered quickly, into Yuzuru’s ear, then straightened, with a frozen look on his face.

Yuzuru turned towards him, slowly, and looked at him with a deceptively sweet smile. Shoma reddened and lowered his eyes.

“You do? What do you know?” he asked, softly, with wide-eyed wonder.

“L—look”, Shoma stammered, “I ....I - just wanted you to know that I am happy with bronze, or- or silver, if possible”, he added with a little nervous smile. “Well, for now at least. You know?” He looked at Yuzuru pointedly, a little pleadingly.

Yuzuru nodded quickly, smiling in acknowledgement.

Who would have thought the ever absentminded Shoma would turn out to be so observant?

“You don’t have to worry about Pooh, Shoma. His only issue is with people who threaten me in some way. Good honest rivals don’t come into that. I actually want my rivals to thrive, so I can beat them at their very best. Javi has nothing to fear, and neither do you. So make sure you understand. People who overtake me fairly on the ice are safe from Pooh.”

Shoma fidgeted again, still nervous, and Yuzuru eyed him sharply.

“Now... have you told anyone else?” he asked silkily.

“N-no, I wouldn’t dream of it. You’re my...hero, my eternal idol.”

He actually bowed a little in his seat, and Yuzuru smiled, scrunching his nose.

“You should get yourself a tissue box”, he advised, then ruffled the younger’s hair.

 

Yuzuru resolved to pay no attention to anything else except his aim of having his name written down in history books. He took on the following season bruised and battered, but burning to prove himself, and ended it with a world record, aim fully achieved. It seemed that the tide had turned again in his favour. He could even control his feelings for Javier – although still strong, they were now more easily manageable.

 

One night during the ice shows that followed that summer, Javier dragged Yuzuru away from the others, into a room which he then locked behind them.

“Sorry about this”, he said, sheepishly. “But you’re always surrounded by people, media, fans, your team, not to mention your mother, and I wanted to have a quiet word with you, alone.”

“Sure, Javi”, Yuzuru replied, eyes wide and alight with curiosity.

“I –uh, I’m probably gonna regret this tomorrow”, Javier chuckled, lowering his eyes and rubbing at his neck awkwardly.

By his overall manner, Yuzuru realized that Javier must have been drinking, and was perhaps emboldened by liquid courage to say whatever it was he intended to say to Yuzuru. Well, he was all ears.

“I – I don’t know if you heard but I broke up with Miki.”

Yuzuru did indeed hear about that, and had in fact wondered, if doing the ice shows together with her might be awkward for all of them. It didn’t seem to be the case so far, but now he reflected that Javier might be taking things worse than he thought.

“I’m sorry”, Yuzuru replied. “If it’s difficult for you to—“

“No”, Javier interrupted him immediately. “Don’t be sorry. I was the one who broke it off. The long-distance relationship wasn’t working, and she admitted as much. Also.... more often than not, when we were making love, I found myself thinking of someone else, and that wasn’t fair to her.”

“...Oh”, Yuzuru said, somewhat confused as to why Javier chose to reveal that sort of intimate information, and even more confused when he noticed that Javier was staring at him intently.

“Yuzu, it’s _you_ I can’t stop thinking about. For a while now, I’ve been in love with you”, Javier went on, voice shaking, and suddenly, Yuzuru couldn’t _breathe._

Since Yuzuru didn’t speak or otherwise acknowledge his words, Javier went on, as if reciting well-rehearsed lines, in a tremulous voice:

“I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t hold the slightest bit of hope that you feel the same... I know things are complicated but if you could only choose me, Yuzu – _choose me_ , I would be the happiest man on earth. But if you don’t feel the same, just....forget what I told you, forget it _entirely_ , please, and let’s remain friends.”

Yuzuru drew in a desperate breath, willing his lungs to stop their painful constriction. This wasn’t the moment for an asthma attack.

“I thought you were straight, Javi”, he finally managed to utter.

“I thought that too”, Javier said, with a nervous laugh. “But there can be no doubt about what I’m feeling for you.”

“Are you sure what you feel for me is not just....”, Yuzuru made a vague gesture, “affection?” he asked uncertain of having hit upon the right word.

Javier sighed, and explained patiently:

“No, Yuzu, it’s not just affection or brotherly love or anything platonic, believe me. I love you, in the romantic sense. I desire you completely.”

What good was a roomful of air if none of it managed to get into his lungs? Yuzuru wondered. He examined Javier carefully, trying to find out what was different about him, because surely having said those words would have to reflect in an outward change. But Javier looked the same as he always did, that soft gaze directed at Yuzuru had always looked like that, except now it was also heated and pleading.

Yuzuru liked this a little too much, but at the same time he didn’t like it at all, because it didn't and couldn't fit his calculations _._ It was confusing.

“There are things about me you don’t know”, Yuzuru said, dully.

“I don’t care, I love you just the way you are.”

“I can’t be with you”, Yuzuru said, decisively. “Please forget me. We are friends but please try to forget me.”

Yuzuru didn’t linger to see how Javier would take this request, as he quickly went to unlock the door and _run._

 

The first thing Yuzuru did when he returned to Canada for training was to ask Brian to switch their training schedule so that he and Javier didn’t train together anymore. Brian agreed. It was Olympic season and he supposed that, agreeable as Yuzuru and Javier had always been towards each other, there was finally some friction going on between the two rivals, with so much now at stake – Yuzuru desperately wanting to defend his gold and Javier desperately wanting to win after having been denied the podium at Sochi.

However, it proved to be a bad choice in the long run, as both skaters were missing each other’s motivating and supportive influence. Yuzuru fell during a practice and injured himself badly. With the Olympics looming, he felt for the first time truly helpless. He entered a dark night of the soul in which he questioned everything, including the worth of his continued existence. His mother’s presence, steadfast and soothing, was the only thing keeping him afloat, telling him that she had faith in him, and she knew, as sure as the sun would rise tomorrow, that Yuzuru would be alright.

“How can you be so sure, mother?” Yuzuru asked her, pale and brooding.

“I just know”, his mother repeated. “I can feel it. You’ll win, but I hope that you’ll also be happy.”

Yuzuru smiled faintly.

“If I win, I’m happy.”

 

Javier and Yuzuru shook hands on the plane taking them to Pyeongchang, and wished each other good luck. Then they hugged each other, for the first time in months, and Yuzuru could finally breathe, the weight off his chest momentarily lifted.

And then the gold was his, and history was made, just like his mother had foreseen.

And then there was nothing but elation.

He had won, despite misery, despite pain, despite some people believing he was well and truly done for. He had shown them – yet again, what strange and unbreakable material he was made of, the stuff of warriors, of legends, of days long gone.

There was no other word for it, but pure, unadulterated _triumph._

The gold medal was his, the crowd was his, the hearts and minds of the people he had conquered, the eyes of rivals were filled with stunned admiration and respect. And Javier was there beside him – they would finally share an Olympic podium, like it couldn’t happen at Sochi.

For once, everything seemed so _right_.

Until Javier held him close and whispered in his ear that this would be their last competition together. Yuzuru wished the painkillers wouldn’t make him so stupidly emotional, as prone to highs as to lows – because the news made him immediately break down into unsightly tears. Why did Javier have to worm his way into his heart, so that Yuzuru had come to see him as indispensable as his beloved Pooh? And how could Javier ruin like this his _best day ever_? It was unforgivable.

“You’re so bad”, Yuzuru wailed, to the amusement of an equally emotional Javier and the delight of a hyperactive Brian filming their entire interaction. _You’re dead_ , he added in his mind.

Out of some inherent Southern European instinct, no doubt, Javier skillfully avoided being alone with Yuzuru on the rare occasions that they saw each other after Pyeongchang.

 

Yuzuru finally saw his chance during Javier’s last weeks of training in Toronto, when Javier invited him out, no doubt expecting he’d refuse. Yuzuru smiled sweetly and said yes. Javier told him, with suspiciously shiny eyes, that he was always honoured and happy to train together with him, that despite Yuzuru’s request, he would never forget him and hoped that, he, Yuzuru would never forget Javier either; also that winning the seventh European title would mean so much for him and his family, that he’d consider it the perfect ending to his career and he really, really looked forward to hearing his country’s anthem while standing at the top of the podium for one last time.

Yuzuru closed his eyes tightly, praying for strength – but he knew, he couldn’t kill Javier, not _now,_ anyway. His code of honour couldn’t deprive his fellow warrior of the chance to step on the battlefield and gain the desired glory for one last time. Yuzuru knew better than anyone what Javier was talking about, with his stupid accent, and his stupid doe eyes and his ridiculously long eyelashes and pretend-careless smile.

Borrowed time, Bambi, Yuzuru thought to himself, as he smiled and assured Javier that they’d indeed stay friends forever.

 

The new season started off innocuously enough. Sure, there was a Javier-shaped empty space in the rink and in Yuzuru’s heart, but such things couldn’t be helped.

During the Cup of Russia, Yuzuru momentarily forgot he wasn’t invincible – such things did tend to happen to him from time to time, and paid the price of such hubris with nemesis.

“It’s funny”, he told his mother darkly, as he maneuvered himself around on crutches. “because I’d nearly forgotten what it’s like to lay in bed with my leg up for hours on end thinking about death. I'm glad the universe saw fit to remind me.”

“Don’t joke about such things, child.”

“But I won’t be allowed on ice for months, the doctors said! I’ll miss the grand prix finals and the nationals! I can’t afford this! For the second year in a row, people will say I’m avoiding-”

“Hush! You will do exactly what the doctors say! I don’t care what ridiculous nonsense people say! I told you to ignore them!”

“Why are you shouting at me, mother?” Yuzuru asked, bewildered, ready to cry.

“Shhh. Sweetheart! I’m not shouting at you, I’m just mad at people who say bad things about you.”

Yuzuru shrugged.

“People have always been strange. It’s why I have Pooh”, he reminded her.

“Please promise me, you will listen to the doctors. Please, Yuzuru. For my sake.”

Yuzuru deflated, with long-suffering sigh.

“I promise... But when I finally do get back on the ice....”, he smirked, “it will be so yabai.”

 

Yuzuru sat in bed and watched American Nationals, the frown on his face intensifying with each passing moment.

“What is he saying about me? Johnny of all people, _my_ Johnny?” Yuzuru muttered darkly. “That I’m inconsistent? That I’m not good enough? That Nathan Chen has more technical content? That Nathan Chen can beat me even if I go clean??”

Yuzuru’s eyes were a storm of kuyashii burning everything in its path, as he began to plot the visit he would be paying his beloved idol soon.

“This cannot be tolerated, especially from you.”

 

“Yuzuru, what a pleasant surprise”, Johnny greeted him with a bright smile, as he opened the door.

“This is a nice place”, Yuzuru said, coming in and looking around, as he set down his Pooh on a side table.

“Thank you!” Johnny beamed. “You haven’t seen it before, have you? Anyway to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I’ve come to kill you.”

“Oh, didn’t you just!” Johnny laughed, brightly. “Coffee? Tea? Or something a bit stronger, maybe?”

“I don’t drink, I’m allergic”, Yuzuru reminded him. “And I’m serious about killing you.”

“You know, it’s funny, because such thoughts do cross my mind at times these days. Sometimes I fantasize about having my life ended in a grand moment of dramatic violence, by a handsome man such as yourself! There’s something to be said about that, isn’t it? Only because I’m too much of a coward to do it to myself, of course, so in the end I’d rather rely on people to take care of me, don’t I always, ugh”, Johnny chattered away as he busied himself with making tea.

Yuzuru rolled his eyes, a little off-put at seemingly not being taken seriously.

“I’m talking about _your death”_ , he stressed. “The permanent kind, you know. No more Chanel handbags, no more Louboutin skates, no more Celine outfits –

“Oh, they’ve gone to shit anyway since Phoebe Philo left. And Karl is dead, and Versace was sold to Michael Kors and .... you know what? Go ahead and _do_ _kill me_ , Yuzu-kun. There’s precious little left to enjoy in this wicked world anyway!

“Right”, Yuzuru answered, frowning, as he tried to keep track of the discussion. “What’s wrong with Michael Kors?” he asked with polite confusion.

Johnny made a noise like a wounded baby deer, and Yuzuru hadn’t even taken out the knives yet.

“What is wrong, you ask? Uhhh! Yuzu-kun, you know I love you dearly, but my darling, if you wanna figure out what makes me tick, then your cute gay ass needs to learn more about fashion, you simply cannot ask this question-“

“I don’t want to know what makes you tick”, Yuzuru interrupted with disarming honesty. “I did once, but then I realized I didn’t need to. I just wanted to be beautiful like you and one day I realized I could do it just by having watched you a lot. I don’t need to understand you to be like you.”

“You’re a clever boy”, Johnny stated, smiling a little wistfully. “And you’re not like me, not anymore. You are disarmingly gorgeous in your own special way. I will miss you dearly. Well now - how shall we do this?” He gasped, dramatically as an idea struck him. “How about naked, in the shower? A classic!”

“I want to kill you, not fuck you”, Yuzuru frowned.

“Yuzu-kun, if you’re gonna do this, let’s do it properly! I demand an epic grand finale! Please wait a few moments while I put on make-up and decide on an outfit.”

Yuzuru groaned.

“Oh no....this is gonna take all night.”

“Don’t worry.... like I’ve been saying, little old me has thought about it beforehand....I laid out my funeral garb a long time ago....I do change it sometimes, though. What? My favourites change all the time!” Johnny explained, a little defensive at Yuzuru’s blank look. “Meanwhile you can just.... sharpen your knife or whatever you serial killers do... I won’t be a moment.”

“You’re not gonna run, are you?”

“Only if you promise to catch me”, Johnny winked playfully, and then disappeared into the bedroom with a flourish.

Instead of sharpening his knife (it was already sharpened, and safely hidden inside his Pooh), Yuzuru took out his phone and texted his mother.

“Johnny sends his love.”

His mother answered in less than a minute:

“I do like Johnny a lot. I hope he didn’t suffer.”

“Only the best for him”, Yuzuru texted back.

 

“I must thank you, Yuzu-kun, you are saving me from an undignified and lonely old age and I can’t possibly ask for more. Just do it quick, please, if you can, pain definitely isn’t one of my kinks.”

“You’re underestimating me. When I deal death, it’s like the touch of a feather, like the fall of a petal at the end of spring. Besides, I promised my mother you wouldn’t suffer. She likes you a lot, and so do I. Any last words?”

“I regret nothing”, Johnny answered, with a bright smile.

“Wise”, Yuzuru nodded, and swiftly plunged the knife straight through Johnny’s heart. Johnny collapsed immediately, as if struck by lightning.

“You are truly a wizard....best of all time”, Johnny only had time to whisper, before his eyes closed forever.

Yuzuru carried him to the bed and laid him out aesthetically, as he knew he would’ve liked. He caressed Johnny’s pretty hair, a little struck by the importance of the moment, his eyes lingering on the delicate features that he had gazed at and admired so much.

“I am sorry”, Yuzuru said, and truly meant it this time. “But you demeaned me. You of all people demeaning me, I couldn’t allow for that. Sleep well. And don’t worry – I’ll do justice to Otonal.”

Yuzuru kissed the forehead which was beginning to turn cold, and left quickly, before he could feel genuine regret tearing at his heart.

 

Except this time something was different.

As he allowed momentary emotions to distract him, Yuzuru did not notice the surveillance cameras in Johnny’s lavish apartment, skillfully hidden from plain view, but recording everything.

 

Not even the police could miss it now.

 

And then, it was only a matter of time before they put 2 and 2 together, and concluded that Yuzuru Hanyu, the record-breaking, world renowned figure skater, might just also happen to be a reasonably prolific serial killer, who targeted a certain type of victims. They were right – Yuzuru Hanyu did have a type. It wasn’t intentional but more often than not, his victims were male, white, middle to late 30s or 40s – because they were the kind who most often undermined him.

The Russian coach back when he was a teenager hadn’t been missed much – he was known for his heavy drinking and for getting into fights, and it was assumed he fell into the Volga while inebriated.

Morozov’s death stirred the waves a little, but there were plenty of others more likely to be suspected, considering his rich and controversial romantic life. Furthermore, the janitor of the building testified he was last visited by an Asian woman.

The others were even more difficult to connect to him.

But now, Johnny Weir’s death was bound to create a larger scandal. Yuzuru braced himself and hoped to ride the wave until the end. He was questioned a few times but he skillfully held his own. However the evidence against him proved to be too much, and he was formally charged and detained.

Morozov’s murder – still unsolved, was remembered and the case was re-opened. The janitor testified again that he had seen a woman leaving his apartment less than an hour before the body had been found.

“No, it couldn’t have been a man”, he denied for the third time, “she was very slender and very pretty and...I still remember those eyes vividly, they haunt me every night.”

The prosecutor directed the man's attention towards Yuzuru, who smirked at him from the accused box, and the witness paled and stammered, as he looked into Yuzuru’s eyes:

“It....uh....yes....it might have been him—“

 

All his achievements and status couldn’t save Yuzuru from the inevitable verdict, and the sound of handcuffs slapped onto his wrists was a dissonant and ugly sound he hoped he’d never have to hear again.

 

“It all makes sense now”, Javier said, frowning, staring at Yuzuru through the separating window.

Yuzuru drummed his fingers on the table, impatiently, He had been surprised when Javier came to visit him in prison, but also curious what Javier had to say. He supposed Javier had come in order to come to terms with the fact that Yuzuru was indeed a cold-blooded murderer and then have an epiphany about his entire life being a lie, after which he’d finally do what Yuzuru had requested that summer, and try to forget Yuzuru ever existed. Even though he knew it was all for the best, Yuzuru felt an unexpected pang in his chest at that line of thought.

“I see now, why you always kept to yourself”, Javier went on, “why you always refused to go out... you were actually busy killing people and planning world domination. I did have some suspicion about the latter at least, if not the former, but I couldn’t know for sure....”

Yuzuru nodded, thinking that he owed Javier that, at least – complete acceptance.

 “....and all this time I thought you refused me because you didn’t like me...I know this is not the right moment, Yuzu, since you’re in prison and everything.... but is it possible that you do actually like me, and only refused me because of....complications....?”

Yuzuru paused. He averted his gaze, because crying like an idiot wouldn’t do now – showing any sign of weakness in prison was a bad move. Of course Javier would mess with his best laid plans, of course. When did he ever _not_?

“I killed several people, Javi,” he reminded his former-training mate, on an indulgent tone.

“I know, I know, and that’s awful but....well. They weren’t really very _good_ people, were they?” Javier made a grimace, and shrugged.

“They were incompetent, and inconvenient”, Yuzuru agreed. “I almost killed you as well, by the way – I at least considered it, on several occasions.”

“Oh dear”, Javier replied faintly, pulling back a little, but then to Yuzuru’s complete surprise, looked him straight in the eye with a rather heated look.

“I still might”, Yuzuru smirked. “You left me, Javi. That was _very bad_.”

“I thought I had no chance with you”, Javier replied, earnestly. “But even if I still don’t - you won’t kill me, Yuzu – not _me_ ”, he continued with a sunny careless smile.

“Oh, I won’t?” Yuzuru spoke between his teeth, annoyed at the thought of being underestimated. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because if I’m still alive after taking the world title from you – twice, then there’s no way I can do anything worse than that, especially since I’m now retired. And if you kill me for leaving you, that’s a little like shooting yourself in the foot. If I die, then you won’t see me anymore, like – _at all_.”

Yuzuru pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, inwardly conceding the point.

“In any case, you’re safe now, Javi - I’m in prison, aren’t I? So it doesn’t matter.”

“Yuzu – it’s alright, it’s gonna be alright – don’t be afraid.”

“Who says I’m afraid?” Yuzuru scoffed. “It’s you who should be afraid. Others, too.”

“I wish I could give you a big hug. Stupid separating window”, Javier complained.

Yuzuru wished that too.

“Is there anything you want, anything I can bring you?”

“Yes, please, I want Pooh. I asked mom last time she visited, but they wouldn’t let her in with him.”

“Why not, it’s not like Pooh is a weapon or anything! This is ridiculous. I’ll talk to a few people, maybe do some bribing? They’ll have to allow it.”

Javier was as good as his word. The next time his mother visited, she brought Pooh. He was toothless, but Yuzuru was still overjoyed to have his old companion. That night, Pooh whispered to him secretly that he wouldn’t mind if Javier were to share a bed with them – and yes, maybe even his cat, and Yuzuru agreed that he wouldn’t mind either. They fell asleep holding hands as usual.

 

So far, Yuzuru had been alone in his cell, but one day he returned from his daily exercise routine that he was allowed as a special favour, to see that someone else was already there, a fellow inmate. He wondered if that meant whatever special favours he was granted because of his status would come to an end altogether. After an assessing gaze, Yuzuru nodded curtly at the man, and got an answering nod in return, but no words. For the rest of the day, no words were exchanged. His new cell mate appeared quiet and subdued, minding his own business, and Yuzuru was thankful for that, even if he was still disgruntled at having to share an already cramped space.

However, as soon as the guards retired for the night, his cell mate stealthily climbed into Yuzuru’s bunk and tried to pin him down with one hand while trying to pull his pants off with the other. After a brief struggle, Yuzuru managed to wrap his thighs around the inmate’s neck and, with a sharp squeeze and twist, swiftly broke it with a satisfying snap.

In the morning, when the guards discovered the body, Yuzuru was placed in solitary as punishment. He spent a very fruitful couple of days image-training for his 4A, until the flow and speed in and out of it were seamless and the landing soft, like a feather carried on the wings of a storm, pausing to slide momentarily on the ice only to soar again.

They were impressed with his exemplary good behaviour, but slightly worried that he was staring unmoving at the wall for hours on end, so they removed him from solitary and placed him in a cell with another inmate.

Yuzuru saw fit to warn him immediately:

“I killed the last guy who tried to rape me, and I’m trying to keep a low body count while I’m here, so I can be released early on good behaviour.”

“Don’t worry”, the guy answered. He was a thin, pale man, with an overgrown beard and a mop of untidy hair. “Sex is the last thing on my mind.”

Yuzuru nodded curtly, and went back to image training.

 

 

Javier was visiting him a few times a week now, as often as he was allowed, and although his solicitousness, as well as his distress and concern for his general well-being was very appealing, Yuzuru was beginning to grow impatient and believed it was high time those arduous confessions that Javier had started anew, and Yuzuru had ceased rejecting, turned into something a little more physical. After all, what was the use of Javier’s wealth of feelings for him if they didn’t make Yuzuru feel thoroughly pampered, except in his (admittedly considerable) imagination.

Yuzuru was regularly questioning his mother during one of her also frequent visits, about the public opinion and the feelings about himself, and his mother remarked how the majority of his fans still refused to admit his guilt, believing it was all a big conspiracy.

“It’s all very dramatic. They’re lamenting your fate and think that you’re a delicate flower, despite all evidence to the contrary”, she smiled. “It’s heartwarming to see. A petition to free you has reached 2 million signatures. Some are even talking about organizing a big escape plan to bust you out of here,” she ended on a whisper.

Yuzuru blinked and got a fortuitous idea.

The same people who always supported him were still there, a sea of people just waiting to rise. And sometimes, all it takes for a sea of people to rise, is one little push – one little _drop_ in an already tumultuous ocean _._

“Mom, take out your phone, please. Carefully, so no one sees what you’re doing. Please film me for a few seconds....and put it online. Wait a moment. Let me prepare.”

Yuzuru sat with his face in his hands for a minute or so. When he lifted his face, his eyes were red, shining with big, perfectly shaped tears. With one nail, he drew a sharp line of angry red on the side of his face, enough to stand out vividly against the pristine white of his flawless skin. He ruffled his hair, then partially straightened it, allowing a few soft strands to frame his face. For the final touch, he bit his lower lip until a corner started to sluggishly bleed. A quick look to his mother and a discrete thumbs up from her, convinced him that the overall effect was striking. She lifted the phone, and caught him in a close-up frame, as he looked up, tears flowing freely, and mouthed at the camera.

“Help me, please. I’m afraid. I’m hurt. Please help me. I’m afraid. I’m hurt. Please help me ---“

 

The next day, all hell broke loose.

“I saw your video!” Javier cried, in his own instagram post. “Yuzu, I promise to rescue you! No one will hurt you again! They’ll have to get through me! I swear I will --“ the video cut off abruptly as Javier seemingly broke into tears and couldn’t go on. Yuzuru was thoroughly entertained and felt more than avenged for Pyeongchang.

Other videos followed, but the truly remarkable thing happened that night, when all the prison guards were richly paid to look away while a considerable number of teenage to middle age girls, and quite a few men as well, broke into one of the most secure prisons in the country, where the most dangerous criminals were doing time, to free someone whom they felt did not belong there. (Even if some of them had started to suspect he did belong there, it had somehow become irrelevant, because they still wanted him out of there.)

Yuzuru turned towards his cell mate, who was staring at the women a little afraid.

“Free ticket out of here, if you want?” he offered.

“You never asked me what I did. I killed people”, his cell mate answered.

“So did I”, Yuzuru shrugged. “Grab it while it’s hot.”

“Nah, they’ll just catch me again. They’ll catch you too, you know. Matter of time.”

“I’ll take my chances”, Yuzuru said, as if to himself. “No offense to your company, but I’m bored in here.”

“None taken”, the man shrugged. “Best of luck to you.”

 

Outside a car with black windows was waiting.

“Where do you want to go?” the driver asked. “We’ll take you to the ends of earth if you tell us to, and die protecting you.”

Yuzuru nodded graciously, he had expected no less.

“Javier Fernandez’ apartment, please. I tell you the address.”

If high-pitched squealing and weird animal noises, as well as muttered ‘I can’t believe this’ and ‘I told you so’’s followed that request, Yuzuru chose to ignore them.

Instead, he said:

“Before I leave, I have a message to all of you, that I’m going to ask you to pass on. It concerns the undying gratitude and love I have for my fans – you have saved me many times and in many ways and would like each and every one of you to know that. I will talk in Japanese, but please make sure that my words are appropriately conveyed to everyone.”

 

Finally, the car pulled up in front of Javier’s apartment, and he was seen off with a storm of giggles and yelps and encouragements, and well-wishes and wolf-whistles and kissy noises, so that Yuzuru was still chuckling even as he stood poised to knock on Javier’s door, trying to compose himself.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, as he was clutching his toothless Pooh to him;  he solemnly knocked on the door.

Javier opened almost immediately, without even bothering to check who it was, a carefree ‘yes’ on his lips. He froze at the sight of Yuzuru, who blinked and gave him a kittenish smile.

“Hi, Javi, it’s _me_ ~”


	2. Chapter 2

“Yuzu!!” came Javier’s anguished cry. “Oh, Yuzu, I was so worried! But how come you’re here, _how_??”

“Shh, no questions”, Yuzuru answered shortly, stepping inside the apartment and closing the door behind him. “My Pooh is toothless but I can still kill with my hands.”

Apparently unconcerned by the veiled threat, Javier took Yuzuru in his arms tightly, both him and Pooh pressed against his chest. Yuzuru had trouble breathing in the tight grip, but he felt his entire body tingling with pleasant warmth. It felt so good to be wanted - loved? no: wanted; but maybe also loved? - by Javi. Thousands of men and women watching him with admiration and awe were no match for Javier’s undivided attention.

_Why_? Yuzuru frowned, trying to solve the complicated equation that had unexpectedly arisen in his life. _It’s not rational, so why does it feel like this? .... I need more data._

“Oh, I was so worried, Yuzu, so worried!” Javier was repeating like a broken record, hot whispers into his hair making Yuzuru shiver all over. “Are you okay, Yuzu? Please tell me! I’m so happy you came to me, I’m going to protect you....”

Javier fussing over him was quite pleasant, but Yuzuru wasn’t in the mood to play the victim anymore – that video had served its intended purpose, and there was no use keeping up the dissimulation.

So he disentangled himself from the embrace and looked Javier squarely in the eye as he answered:

“Please listen, Javi. I’m fine and not hurt at all, and I can protect myself very well, thank you.”

“I’m glad you came to me”, Javier repeated. “You’re safe here. We can work this out.”

“Oh? What are we going to work out, Javi?”

“Well, all this”, Javier made a vague gesture. “You being on the run, and .... we’ll find a way to work things out.”

“Fascinating”, Yuzuru reflected, watching him.

He stepped away, moving around the room, aimlessly, as Javier followed him with his eyes.

“I’m surprised at you, Javi”, Yuzuru sing-songed, as he ran the back of his fingers lightly over walls and furniture, as he took an inventory of Javier’s dining room with undisguised curiosity. “I am an escaped prisoner, a convicted murderer, and you’ve just let me inside your house without a second thought.”

“You’re also my friend, my long-time training partner”, Javier interrupted. “The person I love”, he added after a pause.

“All this to say, you’re weak for me because I happen to have a cute button nose.”

“And a naughty little perky ass”, Javier took up the joke, fingers flexing, as if demonstrating what he’d like to do to said ass, if only Yuzuru was amenable to it.

“That’s very not funny. I killed the last person who tried to touch my ass. You should be worried about your safety.”

“You won’t kill me”, Javier said, as certain as he had been when making that statement before. “You care about me. I’m sure of it. I can feel these things.”

Yuzuru stopped in his tracks, tilted his head and watched Javier with narrowed eyes. He might need an extra notebook just for Javier. And more time.

But how much time did Yuzuru have, really....? Javier did make a good point – he was on the run.

“Do you want to do _things_ with me?” Yuzuru asked, without any preamble.

“.... _things_?” Javier echoed, with a grin. “I want to do a lot of things with you. I want us to kiss in the narrow streets of Toledo, on the run from journalists, the police, and your fans, I want us to exchange rings in a church in Barcelona while the Christmas choir sings, I want us to grow old in a village in Japan where we could go fly-fishing and ---have you ever went fishing, Yuzu?”

“No”, Yuzuru answered, trying to get his heart to stop thumping so loudly at Javier’s words. Javi was crazy and the last thing Yuzuru wanted was to catch Javi’s crazy. Perhaps it was better to kill him and be done with it. _But you’d be missing out on so much_ – a corner of his mind annoyingly whispered, _so much you won’t ever know._

“I mean sex things, Javi”, he clarified. “Do you want with me?”

Javier cleared his throat.

“Is this a trick question?”

“I don’t have time for tricks.”

“I want very much ‘sex things’ with you. But how about yourself, Yuzu?” Javier asked, earnestly.

“I never had sex”, Yuzuru answered, honestly. “I was never interested.”

“But now you are?” Javier asked, hopefully.

“Maybe. I want to have this experience. And you have a lot of experience, Javi.”

“Plenty”, Javier nodded, emphatically. “You’re making the right choice. But is this your only reason for choosing me, Yuzu? That I have experience?”

The beginning of a pout was forming on Javier’s face and somehow managed to attract Yuzuru’s gaze like a magnet.

Yuzuru looked away deliberately and chewed at his lower lip.

“Maybe I also like you”, he admitted.

“I see”, Javier grinned. “Well, that’s good enough for me.”

He reached for Yuzuru, who held up a hand, as another thought struck him.

“Wait. Will I enjoy it?” Yuzuru asked, with a lingering undertone of ‘I’d _better_.”

Javier’s eyes darkened.

“Definitely. I’d be a terrible lover if you didn’t. Not that I needed an extra incentive, but now I’ll really take this opportunity to ruin you for anyone else.”

He took Yuzuru’s hand and led him to the bedroom. Yuzuru patted Pooh in passing, reassuring him that he won’t be away for long, and let himself be led. 

“Maybe that way there won’t be anyone else”, Javier said, hopefully, his eyes boring into Yuzuru’s, who held his gaze, but made no reply.

 

 

Javier kissed every inch of Yuzuru’s body, repeating that he was beautiful until Yuzuru’s ears were ringing with the sweet noise of it. Then he made love to him, gently but passionately, in the way that Yuzuru had always imagined. It was almost like reading ahead in a book and coming across a familiar scene – of course, everything had to happen like _that._ Except the sounds that were coaxed out of him were almost embarrassing in their unpredictable quality. And the sensations that morphed into emotions and the emotions that threatened to morph into feelings – that again was unexplored territory for Yuzuru, one he was almost afraid of delving into. Javier finally came inside him with a shuddering groan, pulled out, kissed Yuzuru, gathered him in his arms happily then fell asleep almost immediately. How unbelievably careless of him, Yuzuru reflected, as he lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling in the darkness and trying to carefully analyze the experience. But somehow he couldn’t think. He felt soft and disconnected from his own mind. Javier’s body was burning him, plastered to Yuzuru’s own like a living furnace. Javier’s hot breath at the back of his neck felt both possessive and soothing. 

Yuzuru wondered how he looked now. Surely there must be an outward change to reflect what had happened to him in the past hours. Carefully, he disengaged himself from Javier’s arms and went to the bathroom. There was a large mirror right next to the smaller one above the sink and he examined himself curiously. His lips were dark red and his hair was tousled but his eyes stared back at him with familiar wonder and intensity. It was still him, and Yuzuru felt relieved. He smiled at his reflection, and his reflection smiled back at him, an impish, satisfied smile. There was a red bruise on his collarbone and Yuzuru’s eyes turned wide and round as he examined it with fascination. He had no memory of how it got there – from the entire storm of new sensations and feelings, he had trouble picking out just one. Yuzuru sighed and swallowed hard, as he suddenly became aware of a terrible thirst – bending over the bathroom sink, he drank greedily directly from the tap, with no concern for finesse or germs. His mother would be appalled.

“Are you regretting what happened?” a voice asked.

Yuzuru looked up. Javier had come up behind him unexpectedly, and was now hovering uncertainly some way off.

“No”, Yuzuru answered honestly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning off the tap.

Hearing that, Javier took courage and stepped closer, pressing into Yuzuru from behind with a happy sigh.

“I love you”, he said, kissing at the shell of his ear. “Yuzu....”

Yuzuru looked at the two of them in the mirror. It was surreal to see himself and Javier like this. They looked good together. He hummed contently. Javier held him closer.

“Did you enjoy what we did?" Javier asked. Was it as good as you...expected?”

“...Yes.”

“Do you want to do it again?”

“Now?”

“Mhmm", Javier hummed into Yuzuru's hair. 

Noticing that Yuzuru couldn't tear his gaze away from their reflection, he added:

"Let's do it right here.”

Yuzuru nodded, with a sharp intake of break.

He was still loose from earlier, but Javier opened him up with his tongue then fucked him in front of the mirror, less gentle than before, hitting that spot inside him so _right_ , that Yuzuru forgot to think, forgot to assess, forgot everything that wasn’t the sheer need and pleasure that was fogging everything in his mind like a drug.

“Look, Yuzu”, Javier’s voice came to him as if from far away. “This is how you look like when you’re with me. See how beautiful?”

Yuzuru lifted his head and looked at his steamy reflection with heavy-lidded eyes. He could barely hold his own gaze, both the Yuzuru in the mirror and the Yuzuru made of flesh and blood were ravaged almost into insensibility, dazed by unfamiliar ecstasy. But he could see what Javier meant: Yuzuru and his mirror twin did look different in the _here_ and _now_.

But Yuzuru couldn’t explain how or why and it was difficult to think.

The only thought that managed to cross his mind – and that was more of a feeling, was that he wouldn’t mind to get to know better this new and interesting Yuzuru, who came attached to this new and interesting Javier, who was bringing him to such heights. So he merely groaned, with a shaky nod of his head. Javier gave an answering moan and plastered himself to Yuzuru’s back, changing the angle and rhythm of his thrusts, and pressing Yuzuru against the mirror completely, into the arms of his mirror twin, forcing them to swallow each other’s unrestrained moans. A corner of his mind screamed that the mirror could break, because Javier was anything but his gentle self now, giving way to an animalistic side of himself, to which Yuzuru couldn’t help but resonate, with mounting excitement. In the ocean of sensations, Yuzuru abruptly became singularly aware of his nipples being crushed against the cold surface of the mirror, because the sensation was like a drop of ice in a sea of fire everything else around and inside him was burning. His fingers scratched at the glassy surface, trying in vain to get some leverage, wondering if a shard would pierce straight through his heart if the mirror were to break, wondering if maybe it was what Javier was intending for him.

Would it really be so bad if he’d die like this, killed by his own reflection and Javier’s overpowering love and desire for him?

Maybe not, but if that were to happen, Yuzuru hoped he’d have enough strength left to turn around and plunge a shard into Javier’s own heart.

 

It was his last thought, before the mirror did indeed break, with a deafening noise.

 

 

Yuzuru blinked awake slowly.

He wasn’t dead.

He was lying in the bathtub, propped against Javier, whose fingers were running through his hair. The water was slightly pink, and there were a few cuts on him, but nothing life-threatening. He tried to stand up.

“Lie still,” Javier ordered. “You have quite a few bits of glass in your hair. I’m still getting them out. But I’m glad you’re coming to. Here”, he shoved Pooh into Yuzuru’s face. “He was worried about you and I brought him here to keep you company.”

At least Javier understood how important Pooh was. Yuzuru nodded seriously, and clutched Pooh to him.

“Why am I in the bathtub?” he wondered, still dazed.

“Easier for the small shards to be removed and the small cuts to be cleaned. It’s okay, there’s nothing serious – and the main reason you’re hurt at all is that you happened to faint at the exact time the mirror broke, and I was too stunned by everything that was happening to catch you.”

“I do not _faint_ ”, Yuzuru protested aggressively, taking offense.

“And yet you did”, Javier said, smugly. “But it’s alright, I take full blame for screwing you into unconsciousness and breaking the mirror in the process.”

“You’re crazy”, Yuzuru said, shaking his head, in awe.

“Says the escaped convict who killed several people.”

“I could have _died_.”

“Well, you said you wanted to kill me, so I suppose that makes us even now.”

“I’m stinging all over.”

“Falling on broken glass usually does that. Fortunately, the water washed away all the bits of glass, and the cuts aren’t deep. I checked you thoroughly.”

“I’m sure you did”, Yuzuru said, a little sarcastically. “Are you done? I’m starting to get cold.”

“Just a moment more.”

“Did you at least manage to finish?” Yuzuru asked derisively.

“Not exactly – I was very close to coming, but then this happened.”

“How unfortunate”, Yuzuru laughed at him.

“Don’t worry. There will be other opportunities, safer than that.”

“You seem very sure. You just broke a mirror. That’s like 100 years of bad luck.”

“We broke it together. We’ll have to split the bad luck.”

“I didn’t break—“

“Yuzu – shhh. Stay still, you’re making this difficult.”

“Please hurry up, I’m on the run from the police, I have bigger worries than a bit of broken glass in my hair.”

“You want to....leave?” Javier actually sounded incredulous and a little hurt.

Yuzuru rolled his eyes, not even bothering to reply.

“Can I come with you? I mean.... you could use me. I could be your hostage!” Javier’s eyes lit up with sudden inspiration.

“Sweet that you offer. But you’d only slow me down.”

“I could help!”

“No. Also, you know, hostages end up dead very often.”

“Yuzu – if you told me I couldn’t see you anymore, or touch you, that would be as good as death.”

“Hah”, Yuzuru scoffed, even as his inner kitten, the one who was always soft for Javi, purred in satisfaction.

Javier’s hands in his hair turned from precise and purposeful to languid and longing.

“Yuzu – if these are my last few moments with you, then I – I wanna make you feel so good....“

“Please. The last time you did, it ended with a broken mirror. The neighbours will get suspicious.”

“I can make you feel even better”, Javier repeated, circling Yuzuru and promptly dropped to his knees.

“Don’t!” Yuzuru only had time to utter before his half-hard cock was enveloped by Javier’s wet hungry mouth.

Yuzuru’s head dropped back in a silent scream.

Javier sucked him off like he could drink pure ambrosia and nectar through his slit, like he wanted to coax more than semen out of him, the very essence of what made Yuzuru himself.

And Yuzuru was fading, he was collapsing, losing his mind – irreversibly? he hoped not. The hand not clutching desperately at Javier’s hair felt around for his Pooh – touching him briefly, Yuzuru felt momentarily comforted. The pleasure was so overwhelming it almost scared him. There was an unpredictable quality to it, like the memory of the earth moving under Yuzuru’s feet – was it safe enough to let go completely and let himself feel? Could he feel secure enough to –

His free hand dropped to the floor and brushed against the cool sharpness of a shard of glass. It felt blessedly cold and Yuzuru was overheated all the way to the tips of his fingers, so he brushed his hand against it greedily. It was reassuring even to imagine, that Yuzuru could just pick up the shard and thrust it into Javier’s neck, should he choose to do so. He was still in control.

Yuzuru never did feel the impulse to use the shard of glass for criminal purposes while Javier was on his knees, sucking him off with such passion and skill. He even ended up surrendering some of his control, driven to previously inexperienced heights of sensual pleasure, enough to grab the shard a little too tightly, cutting his fingers.

Javier’s self-satisfaction in making Yuzuru wild and incoherent with pleasure was somewhat dampened when he realized there was a new cut he needed to tend to.

“You really like me taking care of you, don’t you?” Javier teased, as he applied himself to the new cut. “And your beautiful fingers, too...”

Yuzuru nodded, without thinking.

He did like Javier taking care of him. He loved it. It was new and somewhat unlike the way his mother and his trusted Pooh always took care of him. It was something Yuzuru could get used to.

Javier gave him new clothes and made him breakfast, and a cappuccino when Yuzuru expressed his dislike of plain coffee.

“You’ll like this”, Javier told Yuzuru, the same confident certainty in his voice as when he had declared that Yuzuru wouldn’t kill him, as when he had promised Yuzuru he’d enjoy sex.

And Yuzuru did.

Everything was so new and interesting and Yuzuru felt pleasantly sore and lazy and warm with something like love.

He sat on the couch and sipped at the last of his cappuccino. He texted his mother, telling her not to worry, that he was safe. He watched Javier move around the house. Effie approached at some point, sniffing at Yuzuru tentatively. They looked at each other, similarly wary.

“Hi there”, Yuzuru said, seriously.

The cat grunted, and hopped onto the couch, settling a little further off.

“It’s fine”, Yuzuru said, reaching a hand towards her.

Effie sniffed and licked at Yuzuru’s outstretched fingers, the sandpapery feel of her tongue making Yuzuru laugh. She settled a little closer.

“Say hi to Pooh”, Yuzuru said, putting the tissue box in front of her. It promptly received the same treatment from Effie - a sniff, then a tentative lick.

Satisfied, Yuzuru settled back, and cradled his cup again in his hands.

From where he had been standing, Javier laughed.

“What?” Yuzuru asked.

“I just...”, he shook his head amused. “I don’t know, it was very funny watching you and Effie just now. You’re very much alike”, he answered, still cackling.

Yuzuru considered that seriously. The cat was a creature who looked after itself and valued its own well-being above all else. Playful and affectionate when it felt safe, but dangerous when cornered. Yuzuru didn’t doubt that Effie was very fond of Javier but if she were to starve, Effie would surely not hesitate to eat Javier, and think nothing  of it. And so would Yuzuru.

Yuzuru wondered if Javier knew that.

Probably not, the man was a romantic fool.

But then Yuzuru remembered the heated look that Javier gave him when Yuzuru had confessed he had considered killing Javier several times.

Could it be that this romantic fool actually got off on the danger of it all, and enjoyed playing with fire by having an unpredictable Yuzuru around? Maybe it was the same ridiculous (yet charming) confidence that made Javier believe he could hold his end and keep Yuzuru interested and appeased enough so that he’d keep his claws tucked away.

A corner of Yuzuru’s mouth lifted.

He liked this game.

And it was no use hiding it anymore from himself – he liked Javier.

But if he decided to play it, there would be complications.

Yuzuru would be on the run, but maybe he’d like to risk it together with Javier, like Javi had said he wanted, navigating the narrow streets of Toledo while keeping a low profile. (What a crazy idea, the kind that Javier always came up with in his random unpredictability.) Yuzuru looked at Pooh, asking wordlessly for a second opinion.

_‘...It could work. Surely no one would think to look for you there. And I’ll always be there to protect you.’_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell, I had no idea how to end this.   
> So I decided on an open ending :)
> 
> Hope you liked!


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